Through a Mirror, Darkly
by Adorelo
Summary: EC "He’d seen so much darkness, he was more than ready for the light. If it ever came."


_**AN: **Thank you, as usual, to the wonderful **Kazalene **who, despite writing two (yes, that's two) stories of her own, agreed to help me fix the major boo boo's of this piece. I also would like to state, for the official record, that I have had zero sleep and am currently OD-ed on coffee. _

* * *

_-- Through a mirror, darkly --_

_-- Adorelo --_

A lone ice cube bobbed gently in the brown liquid, its sides trailing around the edges of the glass as a hand swirled against the grain of the table. The image on the mat below was magnified through the crystal; surreal shapes forming and morphing before mixing into a kaleidoscope of colors.

He sat alone; the bustling noise of the bar and the clink of glasses soothed him, reminding him that there was still life left in this world. Still good people. It was rare, nowadays, that he could look at a person without envisaging their demise. Crime had merged into everything - cold, weaving fingers chilling everything they touched.

He shivered.

Life had become cold, dark. He was never normally a pessimist - normally saw the goodness in everything - but as the warm rays of light in his life slowly pulled away from him, he found himself colder than he had been in a long time. It was strange, how much had happened over the last few years - most couldn't imagine. Most wouldn't. Deaths, bullets, broken hearts and shattered confidences. A rather cold semantic field by any measure, made colder every time Eric Delko looked into his mirror at himself. At the man that stared back at him. The stranger.

He'd seen so much darkness, he was more than ready for the light. If it ever came. If it ever chose to grace him with its presence. There were days when it seemed to be at the end of the proverbial tunnel, and days when he questioned its very existence.

In some ways, it had been that darkness that had shown him the light he was still missing out on. It had been a wake up call - _look, Mr. Delko, look what you could have_ - that he had to pay attention to. He'd given up on his past, started dreaming of the things he never thought he'd want.

His father would love that; his son wanting a 'normal life'. Pavel never liked the path his son had taken; it was always too far from the family, too dangerous.

Natalia had been a pitiful mistake, but she was the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back. The one final mistake that made him realize, _wait a moment_, things don't have to be this way. Each time he held her a small part of him would sit up, shout, make him take notice and think, something's not quite right.

It was a shame, a real shame that his world changed. Because, suddenly, he wasn't Eric Delko, playboy extraordinaire; suddenly, responsibility had kicked in and, for the first time in a while, he had to face the inevitable consequences of his precarious actions. Pregnancy scares, lost badges, a sick sister; it could be too much. Could get to the point where, regardless of his surroundings, tears would sting the back of his eyes, threatening to spill over to stain his cheeks.

He'd never meant to hurt Natalia, not really. He'd wanted something he could no longer have. Probably something he didn't want in the first place. It was one of those strange paradoxes: wanting desperately to follow his heart but finding it damn near impossible to listen to anything but his burning desires. Those same desires had driven him to the edge of his existence, of his sanity. Looking back, he wondered why they were so overwhelming. What was he covering? Hiding?

Fear, primarily.

Fear of what, though? His life was fairly simple, if not a little mundane. Eric understood he was lucky, that his family had given him more - emotionally, at least - than most could. He'd never had to ask for a cuddle - found it a huge surprise when Calleigh told him she had - and his family had supported him unconditionally. He was lucky.

After Speed's death, he'd begun to revaluate. Felt himself changing. It was the burns that were the worst. The burning desire he now had for something, anything to fill the void within himself. He could've turned to alcohol, but he didn't fancy that path. The burning fear of loosing someone else he cared about forced him to obsess. Most of his friends hated him for the random late night phone calls, just checking up, but Calleigh, Calleigh didn't seem to mind at all, seemed to understand, on some level, that he needed the support. Seemed to need it just as much as he did. It was then that he realized that she had lost a lot, too. And so the secret, unspoken support system grew. If he had a problem - it was never her - he could find her, pick up his cell, and talk it through. He really was lucky.

And he'd almost lost her today. Again. Each time got that fucking bit closer and he began to question God's reasoning. Why her? Why every time they pushed away from each other did something like that happen? Was it a sign from God that he should cling tightly to her and never let go? Probably, but he doubted Calleigh would go for it.

Thoughts of the day plagued his mind. The fear he'd felt as he pulled up to the crime scene still pumped through his veins, mingling with the alcohol in his blood to form some lethally repressive concoction that clouded his thoughts of any major detail. He blamed Officer Johnson for the errors made, though he knew that was unfair; the young man had stuck to his post and, because of that, Calleigh was alive.

The phrase, '_Officer Down!' _announced from a building would spark fear in most, but the added knowledge that the woman he loved was inside had rooted his feet to the spot and kept his eyes fixated on the door as armed officers swarmed forward.

And those few moments, those few seconds where he knew just what it was like to lose all of yourself in grief seemed to drag on, time only catching up with him when he saw her blond head emerge from the door. There was blood, a lot of blood; but she was okay. He'd cursed himself later for thanking God it wasn't hers, for thanking God Officer Johnson had taken the bullet to the head and not her; he'd hated himself for the relief that had spread through his body.

He had a lot to be thankful for, he knew that. She was alive and she was okay, and for that brief moment he forgot he wasn't supposed to see his partner as a woman. He forgot he wasn't supposed to see her as beautiful and desirable. He forgot, and he'd placed a hand against her skin, feeling it's warmth and softness against his own. The way he reacted to her was pathetic. _He _was pathetic.

He'd gone through it so many times now that he actually accepted he was destined to feel permanently so. It'd begun with his parents, really; he'd lost count of the number of times they'd told him he was special. It was supposed to be a good thing, being the single son, some sort of honor. Some honor. Instead, responsibility had piled up and the true extent of his failings began to expose themselves. Though the youngest, he became the man of the house whenever his father was away. Suddenly the young boy wasn't a child anymore, he had to step up. Most probably the reason he'd begun to run from it. Rebel. Launch himself into swimming rather than appeasing his father's wishes. Gold medals in his sights when all his family saw was failure. He'd let them down. _Pathetic_.

Thinking about it now, he wondered if he ever really had a chance. Did he really want it, or was it the fact he wasn't supposed to be doing it that drove him so far into it? All those nights he'd lie, promise his father he was going to extra classes when, in reality, he'd train for hours at the local pool. The chorine was never smelt, or at least, never acknowledged; if his mother found the wet towels, she never mentioned it. Maybe she knew. Maybe she believed in him.

Did Calleigh?

She always defended him. He smirked to himself, remembering Ryan's annoyance at that fact. And just like that, his thoughts spiraled back to her.

"Refill?" the bar tender called from a few tables away. Eric glanced to his glass noting the ice cube, now smaller, sitting along, looking quite pathetic without it's surrounding fluid. He didn't recall drinking anything, though his throat burned with the evidence. Or was it tears? He couldn't tell.

He gave a sharp nod to the man, not bothering to wait for acknowledgement of his order; he briefly wondered what his tab was at before…

"How many's that?" The voice was soft, not a touch of accusation behind the words. Just maybe a little disappointment.

Calleigh.

Eric wondered why he wasn't shocked to hear her voice, why it wasn't a surprise he'd walked to one of the most inhospitable bars to get a drink alone and she'd come right out and found him. And then realization set in, he'd expected her to. He'd grown used to it; that connection between them ran deeper then he dared admit, but he knew it was there. "Not enough," he mumbled, more to himself than her.

"I don't think you need another, do you?" Again, that soft tone calmed him, and when the drink was placed in front of him, he ruthlessly pushed it away. A metaphor, he felt, applicable not only to ones mortality, but to the little things, the demise of friendship, the loss of willpower that led to a deeper understanding. Fake, or not.

He realized, then, how unfair it was that she had to find him. After what she'd been through today, he should have been the one to go to her, to make sure she was okay; not to have gone out, drowning his sorrows in some desperate bid to find himself in the bottom of a bottle. "You doing okay?" he asked in a pitiful attempt at making amends for his seeming lack of care.

Calleigh smiled then, slipping into the booth he'd occupied, squinting slightly under the dimmed florescent lights. "I am, yeah," she said, a little too brightly, but her expression changed to a look of concern before he had a chance to question further. "Are you?"

Again, he gave a sharp nod.

"Don't lie to me, Eric." And he had to fight not to call her a hypocrite.

He frowned against his irritation, putting it down to the drink. "I'm just thinking," he tried, continuing when she gave him her patented 'and' look, complete with raised eyebrows. "About life, and mistakes and… you," he admitted, words slurred slightly, fighting a wave of nausea when he shot his head up to speak. "I'm sorry I wasn't there… after, you know."

"It's okay; I understand," she said with a soft head-shake and, funnily, he believed she did. "Look, you wanna get out of here? We'll take a cab, you shouldn't be driving."

"You walked?" he asked, paying his tab silently, secretly happy it hadn't come to more; last thing he needed right now was to have to ask to borrow money. He was embarrassed enough at his tipsy state

Calleigh gave him a cryptic smile, murmuring, "I knew where you'd be," as she dialed a cab.

They waited outside - the cool Miami night providing fresh relief from the stuffy bar. Eric glanced to his companion. It struck him at such odd times how beautiful she was. The light breeze moved loose strands of her hair, whipping them up to brush the sides of her shoulders and neck. That neck. That hair. Everything about Calleigh was beautiful; everything she did graceful, elegant without meaning to be. Her ability to be beautiful without realizing was one of the many reasons he fell in love with her.

Almost naturally, he reached out. Felt no fear as he pulled her closer into his arms, and he wasn't sure if it was the inebriation of the alcohol or the fact that it felt _so right _that calmed him so much. Maybe a bit of both. All he knew at that moment was there was no way he was ever letting her go. He'd waited too long and struggled too much to risk losing her again; his heart couldn't take another loss.

She didn't fight him and it was _that, _the alcohol, and the look in her eyes that gave him the confidence to make a move he wouldn't have dreamed of making before today. Before he nearly lost her.

Moving slowly, savoring each second, he leant down, pressing his lips to hers in the softest of caresses. Only when her hands moved to grip his arms did he deepen the kiss, his lips moving against hers in a silent prayer.

She tasted like coffee and mint and Calleigh, and all his senses were overwhelmed by everything _her_. It was strange, but he'd never lost himself in a kiss before. He'd heard a load of bunk about 'losing yourself in one another' and it had been just that, bunk… at least, until her tongue trailed over his lips.

A moan.

He didn't know who it came from, but, suddenly, his heart was slamming into his chest, his body on autopilot as he pulled her impossibly closer, fingers fisting in her hair, so proud to have taken the first step but so unsure of what would happen next.

As though reading his thoughts, she pulled back, a look of confusion sweeping over her features. "Eric, I…" she started, only to fade away as a cab pulled up beside the pavement. Lowering her eyes she stepped towards it.

Eric stopped her with one hand on the door, blocking her entry to the vehicle whilst lifting her face to meet his. "Cal, I know we need to talk… I know that." He paused, catching his breath before saying, "But… if you're going to break my heart, or something, just… just do it gently, okay?"

Calleigh met his eyes then, and they softened a little at his words, the fear dissipating from them quickly as they adsorbed whatever it was behind his own. She nodded a little, patting his hand reassuringly as she got into the car. He followed quickly, still unsure as to what she was really thinking.

As they drove, his mind pondered something his mother once told him. She'd said one day, simply, that trust was the most important thing in a relationship. More important than love. She informed him that you could love someone more than anything in the world, but if you couldn't trust them, it would never work. That the suspicion and lack of trust would dig a huge void in the relationship and erode the love because without trust, love was conditional instead of unconditional. Well, trust was one thing that they had in abundance.

As the driver pulled up outside her house, he glanced down, expecting to see her eyes fixated as they were earlier, outside of the window. Instead, he found her green orbs hidden from view by lashes and strands of hair; soft breaths confirmed she was indeed asleep.

Porcelain skin reflected the soft light from the golden streetlamp; a few smudges of dirt and dust from the outside streets marred the perfect surface, the only sign of the days events. He couldn't resist the pull; it was sharp, magnetic.

Impossible to ignore.

A thumb trailed gently across the fine skin of her cheekbone and, though her eyes remained shut, a light shiver ran over her body, raising the fair hairs on her arms to attention as though reaching out towards the unprecedented contact. Even asleep, the connection between them was electric.

But it couldn't last and, as her eyes fluttered open, he resigned himself to the fact that he could push his caresses no further tonight. She smiled at his touch, eyes dancing against the lamp, alight with… something, something he couldn't quite place.

Again, her hand found his, a soft smile playing on her lips as she lent in, pressing them gently against his for the second time that night. And he knew at that moment he'd never grow tired of it, never wonder if he was making the right choice because for once in his life, he _wasn't _seized by intense fear at being confined or tied down… he felt free.

She pulled back before he could deepen it further, blushing at the gaze of the driver in the rear-view mirror and cast her eyes towards her front door. "Wanna come in?" she asked, a light blush further covering her face as the innuendos undertones made themselves known. "Talk… about everything?"

Eric nodded, regrouping his thoughts as she handed money to the driver. He knew better then to argue. "Yeah, I'd like that," he croaked out, frowning when her hand disengaged from his, only to realize that he'd have to get out of the car if he was to go inside. He pondered her intentions. Her mind was pretty easy to follow, but her heart? Her heart was a vast labyrinth of mystery no logic he possessed could work out.

Gesturing with her head, she rejoined their hands, leading him towards her front door to start a conversation he knew he'd have no control over. As she opened the door, he felt light flood his body.

He knew he was leaving the darkness well and truly behind.

_-- Fin --_

_-- August 31st, 2008-- _


End file.
